The Lesser Blessed (11 page)

I lit a match. I pushed the air with it and the air pushed back. And me, the Destroying Angel, screaming, “Let’s die! Let’s die! Let’s
die ! !” and my cousin Franky, eyes wide and mouth quivering, “Larry don’t Larry please Larry please—”

then flash

a hot gasoline wind blew through me

then flight

a bath of flames

and the kiss of snow

the flame light

the flame rush

Why am I?

Why am I—

the snow

my back

my skin

rising like dough

splitting into fish scales

it’s not supposed to be black

Mother, don’t cry. I’m not here. I’ve buried my bleeding hands in the snow. I don’t feel it. I’m far away. Don’t pull the blanket off.

Why am I so on fire?

Forever I am in the burn camp. I wear a white mask. The glass in my arms and back begins to work its way out. I learn to talk again. I spend a lot of time inside.

I make a friend. A black janitor. His name is Shamus. He is blind. He says this is not a world for children. He says he can smell three different kinds of snow.

A little girl in the child ward is sick, is scratching herself bloody. We play “bus” and “house.” She tells me she is allergic to the sun, but Shamus tells me she is allergic to her own skin. Shamus says what me and my cousins do is called “huffing,” says people usually go for the gold or silver paint. That’s the stuff that packs the best buzz.

What he doesn’t tell me is that murder is a song. A smooth and silent hymn. One I keep inside. For I was raised by butchers.

Shamus calls all the burn victims pigs ‘cause they stink and their skin is hanging in strips when they come in. He covers my mirrors and says, “You don’t want to see what you’ve become.”

As part of my recovery, they take my mask off and hold a mirror to my face.

“Accept,” the nurses say. “You have to accept what happened to you and your cousins.”

They make me naked. I see raw hamburger on a human face.

I could hear myself screaming. I would have continued screaming but I opened my eyes, and a Blue Monkey was sitting on my chest, staring into me.

“Hello, Son of Dog,” he said, inches from my face. He punched his stump wrist in my mouth, gagging me. I sat up as Jed rushed into the room and threw on the light.

There was blood on the sheets. My head throbbed and my hair was slick and hot. Jed put his hands through my hair and pulled away, blood on his fingers.

“It’s in his ears!” Jed cried to my mother. “Larry! Ohmigod! You’re bleeding through your ears!”

My mother stood there, white with shock. I remember holding my hands out to her and seeing her step back, the revulsion in her eyes as I hit blackout.

We took a cab to the hospital. My mom was hysterical, and she made a scene in the waiting room. We had to wait there for a long time. Jed calmed her down and talked to me. “Stay with us, Larry,” he said, “stay with us.” I kept falling asleep but my mom would slap me awake, worried I could slip into a coma. I was tired. It was about three in the morning.

“Don’t let them see my spine, Mom,” I mumbled. “Please—”

“Hush,” she said, “they won’t.”

Jed asked, “What’s he talking—”

“You,” she growled, “never mind.”

“Don’t learn this, Jed,” I thought, “don’t ever learn this.”

My head fell back. “Jed teddy bear.”

I mumbled, “and Mother no mouth.”

I looked around. The white towels. The white walls. The hospital. They want to cut off my ears. They say they’re burned. They can give me new ones. I am wearing a burn mask to keep the swelling down. “But if you cut off my ears,” I said, “what will hold up my glasses?” They look at each other and move away. They don’t cut off my ears (and I don’t wear glasses).

Jed and Mom kept asking what happened. I told them about Jazz and how he had kicked my ass. Jed wanted me to press charges, but Mom said no. She looked at me. We didn’t need the cops. I wasn’t bleeding from my ears after all. I had a rip in my scalp.

“Nothing bleeds like a head wound,” the doctor said. I got six stitches.

The doctor took some X-rays and gave me a note saying I couldn’t eat for ten hours. If I threw up, I was to come back to the hospital where I could stay for the night.

I snapped awake. We were in the hospital hallway. I was in a chair. Across from me, Jed was sleeping, sitting up, leaning against my mom. Mom watched me, and we were quiet. We were so quiet. The doctor had left us alone.

I sat up and reached my hands out. I wanted to take a picture, my mom and Jed looked so beautiful. I softly took Jed’s hand and placed it on my mom’s. My mom started to cry a bit, really quiet. I then took Mom’s hand in mine and watched her right eye. The tear duct my father had destroyed would never work again, so even though she made the sounds of crying, nothing came. For some reason, I thought of Donny, and I started crying too. Our arms made a perfect triangle.

My mother leaned against me and I could smell her hair. Her face was as hot as mine. My left hand touched my face where my tears ran hot and wet. I held my wet finger to my mother’s right cheek and ran a wet trail where her tears should have been. We cried together.

Jed woke up holding both our hands, and we sat there awhile.

“Now now,” he said, “now now.”

We took a taxi home. When we pulled into the driveway, the kitchen lights were on and someone was standing in the porch. It was Johnny. He came down the stairs and walked towards us. He had his hands in his pockets.

“A-me-nay?”
my mom asked. “Who’s this?”

“Johnny. Can we go inside?”

Jed came close to me and put his arm around me, supporting me so I wouldn’t slip. There was ice on our driveway and the stairs were pretty steep. Johnny walked behind us, apart from us. I was hoping he’d try to help me but he didn’t.

“Easy,” Jed kept saying. “Take ’er slow.”

When we got inside, I took my coat off. “Johnny, this is Jed; Jed, this is Johnny. Mom, this is Johnny Beck.”

“You’re Annette Beck’s boy?” my mother inquired. “She was in my English class but she quit.”

Johnny blushed.

My mom handed Johnny some blankets from the laundry room. “I have to go to classes in the morning for an exam. Johnny, I want you to wake Larry up every fifteen minutes. Can you do that? Will your mother let you stay the night?”

Johnny went into the kitchen. “I’ll just call home.”

“You gonna be okay, champ?” Jed asked.

“My ears are ringing.”

“I’ll get you some rat root,” he said.

Jed carried this leather pouch around his neck. He sat down and pulled it out from under his shirt. I sat next to him and watched him take the tiny root out of the pouch. It was like a curved stick, kind of
hairy, about the size of a stubby pencil. It was tan-coloured and really thick.

Jed had a little walrus moustache. It was more long whiskers than anything else. He had these black irises that you could see your reflection in if you looked long enough.

“Here, chew on this—but don’t swallow it. Chew on it and let your mouth produce lots of spit. Swallow only after you’ve chewed it to nothing.”

“Okay.” I bit off a small chunk, and it stung. The root was sour, bitter. “Hey-a!”

“Yeah, I know,” he smiled. “Chew, chew, chew.” It was then that I realized his shirt said, “Good-bye Tension! Hello Pension!”

“What is that stuff?” Johnny asked, sitting down across from me, next to my mom.

“Rat root, bitterroot,” Jed answered. “Good for stomach or head pains. Good medicine.”

“Thanks, Jed,” I said. “Mahsi.”

“No problem. Who was the kid that did this to you?”

“Jazz. He’s a cock.”

“John, did you see the fight?” Mom asked.

“No,” Johnny said. “I saw Jazz being hauled off but I didn’t know it was Lare that he was wasting.”

Jed eyed Johnny. “I think that’ll be good,” he said to me. “The doctor did just about everything he could. We better get to bed. I gotta make your mom some eggs before her test.”

“Yeah,” I smirked, “Mom and her eggs.”

“Ischa!”
my mom smiled. “Don’t you two start.”

Jed laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Johnny asked.

“Aw, my mom thinks that if you have eggs before a mid-term or a final, you’ll ace it. Eggs are supposedly brain food.”

“Well,” Jed said, “it hasn’t failed her so far. Straight A’s down the line.” Jed flexed his pythons for effect. “Good night, gentlemen.”

“Night, Jed,” we said together.

“Good night, Larry,” my mom said and hugged me softly. At first, I stood there stone man. Then I went limp and gave.

“Uh,” I stammered, “good night.”

Johnny asked, “You gonna make it?”

“Yeah,” I said. I watched my mom walk away. My head was still ringing, but not as much. I felt good, but my mouth was on fire and I needed water.

“That’ll teach you not to duck.”

“Ha ha,” I faked.

“Can I make a sandwich?” he asked.

“Go ahead.” I showed him where the meat and lettuce were and I got some glasses out and ran the water. Man, that rat root really stung. I wanted a sandwich too but I wasn’t allowed to eat. We took the sandwiches and the water into my room where we could talk. I had a few Iron Maiden flags up. I had the “Trooper” flag where Eddy was running over a hill holding a flag and sword and there were bodies all around. I also had the “Aces High” flag and the “Phantom of the Opera” one. I had a secondhand “World Slavery Tour” poster and a “Somewhere in Time” poster of Eddy where he’s half human and half robot. I put the tape on and we listened to “The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner.” I turned it low and the music began.

“I love the artwork on the covers,” Johnny said.

“Yeah, Derek Riggs rules.”

“Man,” Johnny said, “you sure got a lot of tapes.”

I had one hundred and four tapes and a few records, but I couldn’t play my records any more ’cause we lost the record player to the fire.

I slid into bed and handed Johnny a pillow so he could prop himself against the door. He chewed his sandwich and eyed me. “Jed’s neat. He your dad?”

“I hope so,” I said.

“You’re gonna make it?”

“Yeah,” I replied. I wanted to take off my clothes before I fell
asleep. I usually slept buck to let my skin breathe. But if I took off my clothes, Johnny might see my scars, and I didn’t want that.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Half past monkey’s ass, quarter to your balls.”

We snickered.

“Jazz really laid the boots to you.”

“I had it coming.”

I wanted him to say something about Juliet; I wanted to know how he and she had hooked up. Had he seen us on the floor? Why didn’t he help when Jazz was thrashing me?

“Hey, what’s this ? ” Johnny asked, pulling out a certificate that was in between my records. He had finished his sandwich and was checking out my collection.

“‘Most loveable boy’?” The certificate was from the children’s hospital in Edmonton.

“What happened?” he asked, with genuine alarm in his voice. My certificate was signed by Missus Stephenson and two doctors who helped me out after the explosion. I had it hidden in my
Maiden Japan
record, but it had fallen out. I remembered when they had given it to me; I was being wheeled out in a wheelchair and my mom walked behind us. She had plane tickets to Fort Simmer in her hand, and we left for Simmer right away.

“Come on, Larry,” he said. “It says here ‘burn ward.’ ”

“Well,” I explained, “I had an accident.”

“I guess you had an accident,” he whispered. “Burn ward, Jesus.”

I was tired and sore. My head was still ringing.

“Was this when Darcy gave you a concussion?”

“No, that was another accident.”

“Man, you’ve had a rough ride. When was this?”

“Before I moved here. Grade seven.”

I felt nothing just then. For Johnny or our friendship. It was as if someone had severed the nerves to my feelings. I was only half in my
body, and I realized I owed Johnny nothing. He had brought me into the drugs, the circle, the Floaters, and now, I suspected, he had brought me into this.

“Well, what happened to your neck?”

“Whaddaya mean?” I asked defensively.

“Well, sometimes your shirt slips down and I noticed you got some scars on your neck. Come to think of it, they do look like burns. Larry, man, what the hell happened?”

“You wanna know what happened?” I asked with an edge in my voice. “I got kissed by the fuckin’ devil, man. They’re fuckin’ hickeys. He sucked me good.”

“Take it easy, Lare, ” he said, “don’t go rank.”

I was tense, ready.

“No,” I said. “You wanna know where I came from? I just told you. You want to know something else?” I asked. I had nothing to lose. I was tired of keeping it in, and it wanted to be told. It came out like this:

“I had this auntie in Rae. Man, she had it rough. Her old man used to beat her ... you know the deal. The thing, though, was that she used to come over drunk and cry cry cry. My mom used to stay up with her and talk. She’d try to get my auntie to leave him, but it was no dice. She kept going back. She used to come over and she’d be drinking. She’d yell, ‘Nathan’s an asshole. He’s a prick!’ But she’d always go back. Lots of times, though, if it got too rough, she’d come over and crash. That summer, I was staying out late. My folks didn’t mind. They were drinking then. I’d usually crash at my cousins’. Anyways, one night my cousins went into Yellowknife so I went home. I was trying to sneak in but the door was locked. Who the hell locks the door in Rae? No one. Absolutely no one. But someone was up. I could tell. I could see the ghosts on the wall from the TV. So what I did was, instead of knocking, I propped myself up on a log to look in the window ’cause if my auntie was camping over, she’d let
me in, and my folks wouldn’t know I came home late. I was going to knock on the window, so she would wake up. But instead I seen my dad fucking her.”

“What!” Johnny spat. “Holy shit, are you shitting me?”

“Nope. I ain’t. He was fucking her and she didn’t even know it.”

“How—”

“’Cause she was passed out. He was on top of her and he had her shirt up and everything. I wanted to scream. The way she just took it, I could tell she didn’t know. My dad fucked her so fast. I couldn’t believe it. I ran away ...”